"Now, young ladies, I suspect you are hungry. I am, for one.
Suppose we see what we can find to eat." He took out his keys and
unlocked the pantry door. The girls looked at each other. There were
delightful possibilities before them.
"I'll forage in here," continued Mr. Atkinson, "while you set the table.
You'll find dishes in there." And he pointed to a china-closet.
This was such an unexpected outcome of the morning's affair, that the
two little girls retired behind the door and hugged each other, and then
briskly went to work to set the table, upon which Mr. Atkinson placed
various articles.
"I keep a lot of such truck in here," he told them. "So, in case I get
hungry, I can find a bite to eat. Do you like sardines or canned salmon
best?"
"Sardines!" exclaimed both the girls.
"That settles it. We haven't any ice, or we could have some lemonade.
We'd better have chocolate. What do you say?"
"It would be very nice, but we have no fire."
"Fire enough. See here." He turned on the gas, and lighted a little
stove over which the chocolate was made, condensed milk being at hand
for use.
"Now, let me see. I've some ginger-snaps somewhere, and some marmalade.
This is rather a mixed meal, I am thinking, but it will keep us from
starving."
"I should think so," said Florence, surveying the table.
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